


Satisfaction

by ironiccowboykink



Series: Connor gets laid [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Ball Gags, Begging, Blowjobs at the end, Other, Overstimulation, Self bondage, but not really elaborated on, you can just TELL when I got uninspired sjshjsdhjsjsh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 03:36:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15877707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironiccowboykink/pseuds/ironiccowboykink
Summary: Connor finally gets a moment alone to try some things out.





	Satisfaction

You were finally gone. Out on detective work, he supposed. Connor was too focused on scrambling for his packages and detailed planning to pay very careful attention to where you were going. It was finally time for him to replicate his last experience with you but alone. 

In a very awkward conversation, Hank told him this was called masturbating, but usually “without all the bells and whistles.” (Connor took that to mean the ropes and toys he had purchased.) He seemed mortified to be explaining the concept, which confused Connor at the time. Was sex not a natural experience in human lives?

In any case, it wasn’t quite as great or elaborate as it could get with you, but Connor was satisfied. The ties were snug where they pulled taunt against his skin— idly he processed the friction, silkier than last time, decided it was something he liked— and his careful planning ensured no lasting damage would be done. He did like to see his “bruises” melt away into his skin— they were oddly satisfying to poke at, see notifications pop up in his processor about the damages.

He had his wrists tied behind your headboard. It was difficult, even for him, to tie his own hands back. Far be it from Connor to back down from the thrill of a challenge, though. Considering he could see the little silk knot he tied, it was likely a job well done.

Plus, he had introduced a new element into his play.

A gag.

It was already in, of course. It was the first thing he had put on. He recalls feeling a sort of bubbling alongside a nagging line of code in his processor telling him to hide it from you. At the same time, it captured his attention, his thoughts, his dreams; and it was only a strip of leather with silver buckles and a bright red ball in the middle, riddled with holes and made of silicone, and yet it took up so much space, in his head and out of it.

It had a weird taste. He suspected it was that “newly packaged” taste you occasionally speak of, and the gag feels large and foreign in his mouth. It’s… it’s good. Connor can’t speak for once, and it feels _good._

He could only imagine himself now. What would you think about this? Seeing your boyfriend, gagged and bound, driving himself further and further towards a precipice while thinking only of you, a curious experiment deteriorating into a simmering urge for _completion_ ending with the spill of artificial lubrication over his cock?

Ah. He seems to have… gotten carried away. Connor files the errant thoughts away for later; he knows you like it when he speaks to you like that.

Distracted, Connor looks down at the space between his legs. He was frankly surprised—and pleased—that he had managed to be coherent for so long. The vibrator he had so painstakingly prepared himself for (his processor brought up the memory of him fingering himself, slowly, ever so slowly, revelling in the drag of his fingers against his artificial flesh) sat snugly within him, sending rumbling pleasure up his spine. It was a new, but not uncomfortable sensation, and Connor was beginning to find himself overwhelmed.

He supposed that it was quite easy to plan it all, set up the necessary precautions for his safety, prep himself properly— and then another thing entirely to carry the plan out. He had wanted to replicate his experience with you and run a test of sorts (and what better guinea pig than he?) but perhaps… Perhaps he has “bitten off more than he can chew.”

A low, broken moan barely escapes the filter of Connor’s gritted teeth. His bound hands squeeze the remote to the vibrator, fingers twitching to turn the dial up. It was already up so high, perhaps higher than any human could take it, buzzing audibly in his increasingly oversensitive audial receptors. Maybe Connor had a masochistic streak. His LED flashed red. Can androids even be masochistic if they feel no pain?

A heat warning flashed in the back of his processor. His sensory systems felt overloaded. His toes curled, eyes fluttering shut as his back arched off the bed. “Mmff,” he moaned, choking off into a unnecessary pant. He had already begun to perspire, slightly dampening he sheets around him. Any unnecessary heat would most likely be expended some other way, but it felt good to let it go as it built up.

It was so much different from your mouth, from the tight, wet heat of your body— there was nothing but the cursed cock ring he had decided to buy and a slight breeze his internal thermometer declared to be 73 degrees Fahrenheit. He felt exposed, his protocols twitching at his processor, wanting him to be covered, neat; but he there was no one here to see him, only the chance someone might walk in.

He liked the thought of that too, of someone other than you seeing him so… disheveled. A rush of pleasure ran straight to his processor, and suddenly a little part of his mind was demanding that he come, saying he _needed_ come, and even though part of him knew he could walk away without ejaculating far less frustrated than a normal human would have been, Connor realized he _wanted_ to. The desire to spill all over his belly was burning like a fire in his processor, infecting his thought process like a virus.

But he couldn’t come like he wanted. Not with the ring on.

His hips thrust pathetically at the air, searching desperately for attention. The head of his cock— simple, flushed blue at the tip and leaking precum out the slit— stood flush with his belly, straining and sending a signal of discomfort to his head. Connor wanted to come so bad. 

“Mmmmmff,” he moaned, slurred by his own spit and muffled through the gag. He would scream if he could. It felt so good, but it wasn’t _enough—_ and before Connor knew what he was doing he ripped his wrists out the cuffs and gripped his shaft with one hand, hurriedly trying to work the ring off with the other. He found that he couldn’t and fisted his cock instead, groaning in relief. 

He wanted, he wanted, he wanted— LED flashing a wild red, Connor jacked himself off, eyebrows pinching in frustration as he tried to replicate the thousands of hours of porn he had viewed and compress it into a few minutes of furious masturbation. The blasted ring was still stuck, because Connor couldn’t please himself and work the ring off and ohhhhh God, he wanted to come. Warnings, bright and _entirely ignorable goddamnit_ flashed across his vision, and Connor shut his eyes. It didn’t help.

He was close, so close, so amazingly close; and Connor knew he could cum even with the ring but he liked it when he spilled over his hand. God, he wished you were here. Your hand always felt so much better than his own, calloused and yet still smooth. No matter how perfectly Connor could replicate your movements it just wasn’t enough, never enough.

He thumbed over the slit on the head of his dick and shuddered a sob, keening loudly through the gag. Lights exploded behind his eyes, blinding like fireworks as his body twitched and his back arched. Tears leaked out his eyes. The signals his body was sending could only be processed as _distress,_ because Connor was so, so desperate to cum. 

He begged the air to get the fucking ring off, to let him cum, to please, please let him cum. Dry orgasms only meant to much to him.

It felt like forever. It took so long, so, so long, but he finally came, artificial shaft turning a light shade. His body writhed against the bed, shuddered and shivered in the afterglow of such an explosive high.

The air felt so much hotter. He felt so much hotter. How long had he been doing this? Connor didn’t… he wasn’t _satisfied._

The android took a peek between his legs. His shaft was still standing at attention, leaking artificial precum in a tantalizing stream. He wanted to touch it again. He wanted to cum again.

The door slammed open and Connor was startled out of his stupor, still a little hazy after orgasming so hard. He watched your expression shift from surprise to mischief, eyeing the ring as you made your way over to the bed. 

Even as he was filled with a sudden sense of dread, he couldn’t bring himself to be unaroused. The look in your eyes, the smile on your face as you licked your palm and slowly squeezed his oversensitive dick from base to head, the hollow of your cheeks as you sucked in tandem— the light in your eyes as you drank in all of Connor’s hypersensitive noises, his kisses and whimpers and cries. His “please, more,” his begging, his desperation for you.

You have him a wink. “I think we’re going to have fun, don’t you babe?”

Connor could barely answer you with a groan as you bobbed your head up his shaft again.


End file.
